


Putty In Your Hands

by llamajo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Porn Without Plot, massage porn, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llamajo/pseuds/llamajo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek pushes the door open and almost stops right there. What he sees is not what he was expecting. The guest is laying on his stomach on the massage table, his forearms folded under his chin. His legs are so long that his feet fall over the edge of the table. The little white towel is the only thing covering him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putty In Your Hands

“Derek - there’s one last guest in room three. I already have him undressing so he should be ready soon.”

Derek looks at the clock. “We’re closing in five minutes,” he says, like Laura doesn't already know. 

“I know,” she agrees, “But it’s just one more. I’d do it myself but you know I’m busy tonight.” 

“I do?” 

“Oh, you know -” Laura is already pulling on her coat. “I appreciate you staying late to help out,” she goes on with a smile. “Got to run.” She kisses him on the cheek and then is out the front door. 

Derek just rolls his eyes. This is not the first time Laura has left him with a guest that comes in right before closing time. Why she doesn't just turn them away, he doesn't know. Actually, she probably does it on purpose just to aggravate him. 

Laura’s two full-time massagists have already left for the day, and so the small building is empty except for Derek and the mystery guest. Derek locks the front door and turns the lights off so that no one else gets the idea to come in while they’re closed. Then he heads to room three to get this over with so he can go home. 

He knocks on the door. 

“Just a second!” comes the voice from inside. Derek raises his eyebrows. He thought one of the reasons Laura left him with this guest might be because the person is old or morbidly obese or something. But the guy sounds kind of young. Well, he could still be fat. Or maybe he has warts. Or a rash. 

Derek hears some muttered curses and then the squeak of the massage table as the person climbs on. There’s a bit of rearranging before he hears, “Okay! I’m ready!” 

Derek pushes the door open and almost stops right there. What he sees is not what he was expecting. The guest is laying on his stomach on the massage table, his forearms folded under his chin. His legs are so long that his feet fall over the edge of the table. The little white towel is the only thing covering him. 

Derek closes the door without looking away. The guy turns his head to look at him. 

“Hi,” he grins. “Where’s Laura? Are you going to give me a massage?” 

Derek steps closer. “Laura had to leave. So yes, I’ll be massaging you.” 

“Sweet.” The man turns his head forward again. “Can you focus on my lower back and thighs? I’m really tense down there.” 

“It’s a full body massage,” Derek reminds him, “But I can focus there if you want.” 

“Sweet,” he says again. “Thanks.” 

Derek places his hand on the small of the man’s lower back to steady him as he drizzles massage oil along his spine. He puts the bottle back on the table nearby and starts to rub the oil into the guy’s skin. 

His creamy, smooth, milky skin. He even has a few moles. 

The man makes a small noise. “Your hands are warm,” he murmurs. “‘s nice.” Derek glances to the side to see his face. His eyes are closed. 

Derek doesn't reply, just continues to rub oil into the skin beneath his hands. He marvels at how soft it feels against his fingers and palms, the way it glistens with the oil spread across it. Derek has half a mind to thank Laura for making him stay late. It’s not often that he gets to give a massage to someone he actually wants to touch. 

And Derek definitely wants to touch this guy. Hell, he would probably give this guy a massage for free! He’s exactly Derek’s type: all long lines and lean muscle. Derek rubs at his lower back above the towel and the guy moans softly. 

He works his way up the man’s back to his shoulders, pressing his thumbs in and moving them outwards in sync. The man melts in his hands, loosening up beautifully. Derek likes how responsive he is. 

Derek moves his hands to massage the man’s sides and feels his dick twitch in his pants when the man arches his back into the touch so that Derek can reach around him to massage his pectorals. He traces underneath the man’s nipples and watches as they harden. 

Shit. He’s half hard in his pants like he’s some newbie masseur with his first attractive man. This isn't Derek’s first time massaging an attractive man, or woman, but this is the strongest reaction he’s ever had. He usually keeps it professional. 

He removes his hands to drizzle oil on to the back of the man’s legs, trying to ignore his growing erection. He starts rubbing the man’s upper thighs, moving down to the backs of his knees and over his calves. 

“Oh, man, that feels so good,” the guy says quietly, sighing. “College is totally more stressful than I thought it would be,” he muses. “I’m glad I came back this weekend to see my dad.” 

“Hmm,” Derek says, focusing on the skin beneath his hands, the way the man’s muscles clench when Derek rubs the inside of his thighs. 

“I told my dad he’s the one who should get a massage,” the man continues, almost sleepily. “He’s the one who needs it more, since he’s the Sheriff, but he wouldn't listen to me.” 

That catches Derek’s attention. “You’re the Sheriff’s son?” he asks. The Sheriff is a good man. He has worked with his mom on some of her cases. She only says good things about him. 

“Yep,” the son of the Sheriff smiles. “You can call me Stiles.” 

“I’m Derek,” Derek says, feeling just a little sheepish. 

“I know,” Stiles sighs. Laura must have told Stiles his name, then. 

Derek can’t help but notice the way Stiles’s mouth is slightly open as he breathes. His eyes are still closed, so Derek looks his fill, taking in the upturned nose, the dark lashes, the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips. 

His gaze returns to his hands, which are steadily creeping closer and closer to Stiles’s ass with each pass. He’s almost reaching underneath the towel. Derek wants to just get rid of the towel altogether so that he can knead the cheeks of Stiles’s ass in his hands. He wants to make Stiles spread those cheeks so he can look his fill and touch Stiles deep, inside, where he can give him a different type of massage, using just the pads of his fingers. 

Derek is fully hard now, his cock straining uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants, but he doesn't dare adjust himself in case Stiles notices. Derek would feel a little bad thinking such dirty thoughts about the Sheriff’s son, except Stiles mentioned college, so at least it’s not illegal. 

Derek drizzles more oil on Stiles’s lower back, rubbing there. He really wants to take the towel off. He moves the tips of his fingers a few inches underneath it, feeling the top of Stiles’s ass, and Stiles moans. 

“You feel tense under here,” Derek tells Stiles, his voice soft. “Can I take off the towel?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles says, breathy, and Derek doesn't even feel bad about it, just slides the towel off and drops it so it lands on the floor near his feet. He rubs the oil all across Stiles’s (plump, beautiful, firm) ass and grips it tight in both hands, leaving red marks. He knows he’s already crossed the line, so he just keeps going. As long as Stiles doesn't tell him to stop. 

He rubs the back of Stiles’s thighs again, using the upwards motion to spread his cheeks open so he can get a glimpse of Stiles’s pink asshole. Derek wants to stick his fingers in him and stretch him open, but he doesn't even know if Stiles is gay. Then a thought occurs to him. 

“Do you want to flip over?” Derek asks, and Stiles tenses. 

“Uhm,” Stiles says, sounding vaguely embarrassed. He’s blushing, but he turns over anyway so that he’s laying on his back, his arms down by his sides. Derek drizzles oil on his chest and surreptitiously looks at his exposed cock. 

Stiles is hard and leaking, his cock curved up into his stomach, the tip flushed red, and Derek’s mouth goes dry, his own dick twitching at the sight. 

He feels a boost of confidence knowing that Stiles is hard because of him, but he doesn't touch Stiles’s cock, yet. He focuses on Stiles’s chest, which has just a slight smattering of dark hair, and watches as his nipples harden once again. He rubs over them with his palms and Stiles sighs, biting his lower lip with his teeth. 

“Fuck,” Derek says, under his breath. He really wants to kiss those lips. 

He moves down Stiles’s stomach, his knuckles brushing gently against his hard cock, and Stiles whimpers, his eyes still closed. Derek teases him, rubbing the tops of his thighs and brushing his fingers just shy of Stiles’s balls. 

Stiles spreads his legs open and Derek leans over to look closer. He can smell the musk of Stiles down here; it’s heady and strong. 

Derek has to touch him. He has to. 

He cups Stiles’s balls gently, rubbing them with his fingers. They’re warm and full in his hand. He runs one hand back up to rub Stiles’s chest while he moves his other to stroke along Stiles’s cock, finally gripping him in his hand. 

Stiles sits up to look and Derek watches his face carefully. His eyes are wide and his mouth is open, his breathing heavy. He looks completely blissed out. His eyes flick over to look at Derek and he laughs shakily.

“Do you do this for everyone you massage?” he asks. 

“No,” Derek tells him, looking into this brown eyes. “No,” he says again, just to make sure it gets through. “This is the first time, actually,” he admits. 

“Really?” Stiles moans as Derek continues stroking him steadily, up and down and up and down. 

Derek nods and leans over to lick at a pink nipple, keeping eye contact with Stiles as he does it. 

“Fuck,” Stiles swears. “You’re so fucking sexy.” 

He reaches out a hand to start palming at Derek’s dick through his pants. Derek lets out a breath as Stiles grips him in his hand. 

“You’re hard,” he says, smiling up at Derek like this is the best news he’s had all day. Then he says, “Take off your clothes.” He’s looking up at Derek with hooded eyes, a healthy flush on his cheeks. 

Derek steps back and Stiles sits up, bracing himself on the massage table, his eyes riveted to Derek. Derek likes that he’s not touching himself. 

Derek takes off his work shirt and pants and removes his shoes and socks with his briefs still on. The head of his cock is sticking up out of the top against his abdomen and Stiles is staring at it. 

Derek slowly pulls down his briefs so that his cock bobs free to stand straight away from his body. 

“Come here,” Stiles says, once Derek is completely naked. He grips Derek’s flushed cock and pulls him up so that he’s kneeling on the massage table in front of Stiles, who is on his hands and knees. 

Stiles moves forward to wrap his lips around Derek’s cock, one of his hands coming up to grip the base and the other on the table pressed against Derek’s knee. 

Stiles moves forward gradually, taking more and more of Derek into his mouth until he can’t anymore, and the sound of him gagging is obscene. Derek wants to fuck his pretty mouth, but he lets Stiles pull all the way off. 

“It’s so big,” Stiles says. “I can’t even get all the way down.” He opens his mouth and takes Derek in again, slowly moving forward like he did before, trying to take more into his mouth. Derek feels it when his cockhead hits the back of Stiles’s throat and his dick twitches, causing Stiles to gag and move back. He sucks the tip and strokes Derek with his hand and Derek moans. His dick is wet and Stiles’s mouth is warm and soft and it feels amazing. 

“Ohh, fuuck,” Derek groans when Stiles takes him deep again, shoving his nose into Derek’s pubes and pressing into him, trying to take all of Derek into his mouth. He pulls back again to catch a breath, his eyes watering, and Derek guides his mouth back to his cock with a hand in his hair, which is just long enough to hang on to, and soft between his fingers. 

Stiles takes him in again, deepthroating like a fucking champ, and Derek holds his head in his hands and moves his hips forward, fucking into that wet heat. Stiles relaxes his mouth and stays still, taking what Derek gives him, and he looks up at Derek when Derek pulls out to let him breathe and it’s the sexiest fucking thing Derek has ever seen. 

He pushes into Stiles’s mouth again, rubbing against his tongue and pushing against his throat with soft noises that are louder when Stiles opens up his mouth. 

“You’re good at this,” Derek tells him in between groans. 

“Thanks,” Stiles pulls off and grins at him. “I have an oral fixation.” 

“You've done this a lot?”

“A few times,” Stiles answers, sly. 

Derek smirks at him and steps off the massage table. “Your turn,” he says. “Get on your back.” 

Stiles complies, and Derek pulls him forward until he’s sitting at the edge of the table, his legs in the air and his cock in front of Derek’s face. Derek takes him into his mouth and sucks. He can’t go as deep at Stiles can, but he milks Stiles’s cock with his hand and licks the underside with firm strokes of his tongue, and Stiles fists a hand in his hair and moans and moans, so he must like it just fine. 

Stiles keeps twitching his hips, like he wants to fuck into Derek’s mouth but doesn't quite dare, and Derek thinks that though Stiles may have given quite a few blow jobs, maybe he hasn't received quite as many, which is a real shame, since he has such a nice cock. 

Derek uses his other hand to massage Stiles’s balls gently, loving the velvet-smooth feel of them in his fingers. He pops off of Stiles’s cock with a slurp and looks into his eyes while circling his middle finger around Stiles’s hole. 

“Have you done this before?” Derek asks. He wants to know how fast he should go. 

“What, fingered myself? Absolutely,” he answers, slightly out of breath. “I like to use a lot of lube, though,” he continues. “There’s some in my jeans pocket, and a condom, too.” 

Derek moves away to look through said pockets and he finds one condom and unopened bottle of lube. 

“You definitely came prepared,” Derek says. He opens the condom and rolls it on his erection quickly. 

“Yeah,” Stiles answers him, “I was hoping this would happen.” 

Derek raises his eyebrows but instead says nothing, deciding he’ll ask about it later, after he’s fucked Stiles to orgasm. He opens the bottle of lube and pours some over his fingers and across Stiles’s balls so that it leaks down over his ass and onto the cloth covering the massage table. 

“Fuck,” Stiles hisses at the cold, and Derek kisses his inner thigh in apology. He rubs his fingers up and down Stiles’s crack, spreading the lube everywhere before he pushes one finger inside of him slowly. 

Stiles’s body sucks his finger in beautifully and Derek moves it in and out slowly, caressing the walls of his asshole with gentle strokes. 

Stiles is moaning continuously, his thighs trembling slightly, and when Derek points his finger straight and finds Stiles’s prostate, Stiles yells and moves his hips down, grinding on Derek’s finger. 

“More,” he says, “Come on, please.” 

So Derek pushes in a second finger, spreading them inside and opening Stiles wider little by little. 

“You’re so good at that,” Stiles moans breathlessly. “Come on, hurry up, or else you’re gonna make me come.” 

“You can come whenever you want,” Derek tells him, his eyes still riveted to Stiles’s asshole. He adds a third finger and Stiles groans. 

“I don’t want to come until you’re inside me,” Stiles tells him. 

Derek leans up to look at Stiles’s face, his lower lip between his teeth and his cheeks flushed pink. He’s gripping the base of his own cock to stave off his orgasm. 

“You’re almost ready,” Derek tells him. He leans over Stiles to kiss and suck at his nipples while he continues to penetrate him with his fingers. 

“I wish you didn't have to wear a condom,” Stiles babbles, “But I promised I would always be safe, so…” his breath hitches as Derek squeezes the tip of his pinky finger into Stiles’s hole along with his other three fingers. 

“I don’t mind,” Derek tells him.

“Good,” Stiles says, “I’m ready, Derek, I’m -"

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, already coating his condom-covered cock with lube. He slowly removes his fingers and then presses the head of his cock to Stiles’s quickly shrinking hole. 

He pushes forward and can feel Stiles relaxing as he slowly enters Stiles’s body. Derek can feel Stiles’s inner muscles twitching as his body makes room for Derek’s cock. It’s quiet as Derek pushes into him slowly, all the way until his balls are against Stiles’s crack. He grips Stiles’s thighs in his hands, spreading his legs and looking down between them where he’s buried deep inside of Stiles. 

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles groans, when Derek starts moving in short, shallow thrusts. “That’s so good - oh my God - come on, Derek -” 

“You’re so good, Stiles,” Derek agrees. His thrusts become longer and deeper. 

Stiles’s hands grip the white tablecloth as he groans and thrashes his head. In this position on his back with his ass at the edge of the table Stiles doesn't have any leverage to fuck himself on Derek’s dick, so he has to just lay there and take it. 

Derek fucks him at a steady pace, loving how Stiles falls apart beneath him. Stiles throws his head back and groans, cursing continuously under his breath and moaning things like, “God, you’re so deep,” that just make Derek want to fuck him harder. 

Stiles’s cock bounces against his abdomen, leaking everywhere and flushed red at the tip, but Stiles ignores it in favor of touching Derek all over. He leans up to run his hands up and down Derek’s chest, across his abdomen and nipples, over and over again, like he can’t get enough. 

He moves his hands to Derek’s arms, which are wrapped around his thighs, holding him apart, and when Stiles puts his hands on top of Derek’s, Derek flips his hands around to hold on to Stiles’s questing fingers, because holding hands during sex is a major turn-on for Derek. 

Derek knows he’s not hitting Stiles’s prostate at this angle, so after a few more thrusts he pulls out carefully and tells Stiles to turn over. Stiles stands up on shaky legs, leaning on Derek briefly as he turns around and drapes himself over the table, stomach down. His legs are long enough that he can stand with his feet on the ground and be bent over so that his ass is in the air. 

“That’s perfect,” Derek tells him as he spreads Stiles’s ass cheeks and slips inside him again. 

He grips Stiles’s ass in his hands and pounds into him, making the massage table creak and bounce. Derek finds Stiles’s prostate and changes his angle so that his cock hits it every time he pushes in. 

Stiles’s cock is trapped underneath his body, and the friction of him rubbing against the tablecloth as well as Derek pounding into him has him quickly escalating over the edge. 

“Oh my God,” Stiles moans, “Oh my God, you’re the fucking best.” 

Derek grunts and fucks Stiles harder, relentless, and Stiles yells as he comes, his ass clenching spasmodically around Derek as he shoots into the tablecloth. 

Derek groans loudly and fucks him through his orgasm. He knows he’s getting close, but he doesn't want to stop yet. He’s already addicted to Stiles’s wet heat, the way his skin looks with Derek’s hands all over it, and the words that come out of his mouth.

He fucks Stiles at a slower pace as Stiles comes down from his orgasm high. Stiles arches his back and reaches around with one hand to put his fingers on top of Derek’s again, twisting them together. 

Stiles starts whimpering, his cock probably over-sensitized, so Derek flips him over again so that he’s on his back and positions Stiles’s legs over his shoulders. The squeeze of his ass cheeks is tighter this way and Derek can see Stiles’s face, and he knows he won’t last much longer. 

Derek stares into Stiles’s beautiful brown eyes as he fucks him - slower now - and leans down to drape his upper body across Stiles so that their chests are touching. Stiles fists both hands in Derek’s hair and leans up to kiss Derek on the mouth. 

Derek tries his best to kiss him back, but can’t quite focus as his legs start to tremble as his orgasm builds. He breaks away from Stiles’s mouth with a gasp and buries his face in Stiles’s neck as he thrusts deep - one, two, three, four - times before going still as he comes into the condom, groaning loudly with his lips clamped on Stiles’s neck. 

He leans back up to languidly kiss Stiles again, pushing their lips together and licking inside Stiles’s mouth when he parts his lips. 

Derek breaks the kiss for some much needed air and pulls out of Stiles slowly, grimacing slightly. He takes the condom off and ties it, then throws it to the door, where the garbage can is. 

Stiles is looking at him when he turns around again. He’s on his back on the massage table and Derek climbs up next to him, wanting to prolong the afterglow for as long as possible before he has to come back to reality and face the fact that he just had sex with someone he hardly knows. 

He ignores all that for just a while longer, deciding instead to kiss Stiles again, softly, leaning over him on one arm and softly rubbing Stiles’s stomach with the other, his soft cock resting against Stiles’s hip. 

Stiles licks into his mouth and Derek sucks on his tongue, making Stiles moan softly. One of Stiles’s hands is carding through his hair and he makes a content sound deep in his chest. They trade lazy kisses until their heart beats slow, and past then. They kiss until Stiles pulls away to smile up at Derek. 

Derek smiles at him in return, soft and secret, and doesn't comprehend how he can be so supremely comfortable with this beautiful stranger.

“Your mom knows my dad,” Stiles says. “Sometimes they work on cases together at my house, and sometimes they let me sit with them.” Derek doesn't know where this is going, but he stays quiet to hear Stiles speak. 

“Sometimes your mom talks about her two daughters, Laura and Cora, and sometimes she talks about her son, Derek, who works as a personal trainer at the gym in Beacon Hills.” 

“And one time, her daughter Laura comes with her to the house and tells me about her massage business, and how her brother helps her out by working two nights a week.” 

Derek has stopped rubbing Stiles’s stomach and is instead staring down at him, listening intently. 

“And Laura tells me about her brother, about how caring, and funny, and hard-working he is, and she shows me a picture of him on her phone and I think: I have to meet this man.”

“So Laura schedules me a late appointment at her massage parlor on a night when her brother is working, so I can meet him.” 

Stiles stops there, watching for Derek’s reaction. Derek doesn't know if he should be angry at the fact that Stiles apparently knew about him and didn't say anything, or be happy that apparently Stiles likes him. At least, he thinks Stiles likes him. 

“Are you mad?” Stiles asks, quiet, his expression worried.

And that’s what tips the scale: the fact that Stiles cares about the outcome. 

“I’m not mad,” Derek assures him, touching Stiles’s cheek with gentle fingers. “Just surprised, I guess. Although, it is kind of like Laura to set me up without letting me know about it.” He smirks down at Stiles, who smiles in return. 

There’s a nagging part of Derek, though, the part that’s been betrayed before, the part that remembers Stiles saying, “I was hoping this would happen,” that has to ask: 

“Did you come here just to have sex with me?” 

“No!” Stiles assures him, his hand resting against Derek’s neck. “I came here because I wanted to meet you in person. You know, maybe get your phone number and ask you out or something.” Stiles blushes a pretty red as he says it. “I didn't think we would have sex at all, I just brought the condom and lube to be prepared, just in case. I was a Boy Scout, you know.” 

Derek chuckles, bending to press a chaste kiss to Stiles’s lips, smiling when he pulls back. “You want to go out with me?” he teases, and Stiles grins up at him, looking positively ecstatic. 

“I really do,” Stiles assures.

“Okay,” Derek agrees. “The guest shower is down the hallway. Once we’re no longer covered in oil and jizz, let’s go to my parent’s house for dinner, since you already seem to know my mother and sister.” 

Stiles agrees, and they wash each other in the shower like teenagers who can’t keep their hands to themselves, and Stiles follows Derek back to the house in his Jeep, and they walk inside hand in hand, and when Laura sees them, she laughs and declares herself to be the best sister there ever was. 

Derek doesn't disagree.


End file.
